Though parting's quiet
The memory's as sweet as
Two apples, crunch and chomp

Same moon, different skies.
We may yet knit a blanket
Of skies stars skin lips

You are hot and small
Your little wrists, held solid
Your little cheeks, flushed.

I'm so pleased, your list
Is as it was. Though our time
Was teasingly shorts.

I would love to kiss
You, in the dark. Sprawled, lounging.
So, I think, I might.